


Choice Replacement

by Hekate1308



Series: Tales of the Thursdays [3]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, The Thursdays adopt Morse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 01:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19188754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: DS Fred Thursday had his faults. He was aware that his temper could turn vicious, especially when he was trying to help people or working against the clock, and he didn’t always have the best attitude when it came to persons of authority, especially if they got cocky.But he’d always been honest with himself, and it didn’t take much to admit that he and Win had sort of been swept away with their worry about and enthusiasm for Morse.And that was how they had ended up with three children instead of two, in a manner that could at best be described as slightly illegal. Fred was pretty sure selling and buying kids had been forbidden ever since the outlawed slavery.But they had more or less bought Morse, and now there was another boy under their roof they were responsible for.





	Choice Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> It had to be done. Enjoy!

DS Fred Thursday had his faults. He was aware that his temper could turn vicious, especially when he was trying to help people or working against the clock, and he didn’t always have the best attitude when it came to persons of authority, especially if they got cocky.

But he’d always been honest with himself, and it didn’t take much to admit that he and Win had sort of been swept away with their worry about and enthusiasm for Morse.

And that was how they had ended up with three children instead of two, in a manner that could at best be described as slightly illegal. Fred was pretty sure selling and buying kids had been forbidden ever since the outlawed slavery.

But they had more or less bought Morse, and now there was another boy under their roof they were responsible for.

He didn’t regret it; of course not. Morse was a wonderful lad who deserved a good home; and what he had felt when he had seen him ill couldn’t have been filled with more concern and – yes, love if it had been Joan or Sam who’d caught a violent cold. He still shuddered when he remembered Morse lying in his arms, all but unresponsive and much too hot.

But all of their lives had suddenly changed in a rather irrevocable way. At least Joan and Sam were still small. They’d soon forget there’d even been a time when Morse didn’t live with them as their brother.

And it had been remarkably easy to get used to another child in the house. Part of the reason for that was that Morse was incredibly well-behaved and helpful at all times; another that he had already been spending so much time with them that really, him sleeping at home too was barely a change; and lastly, once Fred Thursday came to care for someone like for his own blood that was it.

Still; there were a few things they had to get sued to, and so, one day when he came home from work and found the kiddies and Win in the kitchen but heard opera music drift in from the living room, he decided to see and have a little chat with (as of two months ago) their oldest. It was one thing to be out of his father’s and stepmother’s clutches; but Morse needed and deserved more than that. He deserved a dad.

Win then confirmed that this decision was an even better one that he’d thought because she drew him close and said under her breath, “I think Morse is upset about something, but when I asked, he told me everything’s fine.”

He nodded at her, kissed Joan’s forehead, ruffled Sam’s hair and went into the living room.

Morse was staring at the record player as if he hoped it would give him some answers he was desperately searching for. Rosalind Calloway’s voice, singing of love and loss, was almost painfully beautiful. “Evening, son. How are you doing?”

It was clear he had startled Morse, who immediately turned away, rubbed his eyes, then moved to look at him again. “Thank you, Mr. Thursday. I am doing very well.”

He frowned. He had never thought much of fathers who allowed their sons to deceive them into thinking everything was fine when it wasn’t, and he certainly wouldn’t turn into one himself.

He sat down next to Morse on the sofa. “I have a feeling that’s not the whole story.”

Morse was silent.

“Look, Morse, I – we just don’t want you to think you can’t talk to us when you’re upset” he tried. Everyone has a bad day now and then –“

“Why didn’t he want me?” Morse suddenly burst out, his eyes shining.

Ah. So that’s what it was. Win and Fred had decided as soon as they learned how they could rescue Morse from the loveless home he’d been sent to that they would not tell him the truth – not the whole truth – for a while yet; when he was grown, one day, but not now, when everything was still so fresh.

But of course he must have noticed some things, for example the haste his father had had to get rid of him.

“He – he’s my father. He must have cared about me at some point. And about Mum.”

That stung probably more than being abandoned, Fred thought; that Morse senior hadn’t just turned his back on his own flesh and blood, but also on the memory of the woman he had once at least liked well enough to marry.

“I know they got divorced but I mean – if they never liked each other, they wouldn’t have had me”.

Fred didn’t know what to say. Relationships were complicated, as he learned daily afresh in his line of work; sometimes they simply didn’t make sense because there was none to find. But that wasn’t what Morse wanted or needed to hear right now. “I can’t tell you” he said honestly.

Morse had resumed staring at the record player. “There must be something wrong with me.”

“There isn’t” he said firmly.

“But why, then? I tried so hard to please him. I did everything they told me. I cleaned the dishes. I never left any trash lying around. I didn’t listen to music or stay in the house reading when Gwen told me to get out. I didn’t even go near Joyce because they didn’t want me to.”

What a set of rules, Fred thought, especially for a grieving boy. “They were wrong to ask all that of you.”

He shrugged. “maybe I did it wrong, though” he then said, “Maybe there was something about the way I did those things that just –“

“Morse!”

He looked at him then.

“Listen, son” he said. “There is nothing wrong with you. Your father had a responsibility that he refused to fulfil.”

“He did take me in” Morse said quietly, “And they did give me clothes and food –“

Good God. “I meant he had the responsibility of loving his child” Fred said quietly. “Like Win and I and Joan and Sam love you, Morse.”

“You do?” his eyes widened, and Fred belatedly realized that, while they had spent time with him and taken him in and looked after him, they had forgotten to tell him why they were doing these things.

“Of course. You’re a wonderful lad. And you’re our son, now.”

He thought it had ben the wrong thing to say when Morse burst into tears; but instead of moving away from him or worse, even leaving the room, he launched himself into his arms.

Despite the tears seeping into his shirt, Fred couldn’t deny that it felt much better than the time he’d gad to carry him out of his father’s house. He didn’t have much experience with comforting older children – usually the officers whose own kiddies were already more grown than his chose to deal with them – but he figured it couldn’t be that different from calming down Joan or Sam after a nightmare, so he started rubbing his back. “There, there Morse. It’ll be alright in a second.”

Morse sniffed but gradually stopped sobbing. When he drew back, he looked even younger than he was with his hair in disarray and his eyes red. “I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt. I’m sorry.”

He noticed that he wasn’t calling him Mr. Thursday automatically anymore and decided this was a good sign. “Don’t you worry about that. Nothing some soap won’t fix. Are you feeling better?”

He pondered the thought then nodded shyly. Fred patted his shoulder. “You just have to get used to things. Nothing wrong wit being overwhelmed, never forget that. And you can always come to one of us and talk about it if you want, alright?”

He nodded again, but this time he was smiling.

“Now, how about a nice cup of tea?”

When they entered the kitchen Joan and Sam immediately skipped over to Morse. Their daughter frowned. “You’ve been crying.”

“Yes” he answered honestly just as Fred was about to intervene. “I was sad because I remembered that at my – at the place where I used to live, no one wanted me. So I cried. But I’m feeling better now.”

“Oh don’t be sad” she told him, hugging his hip. “We want you here!”

He swallowed, then kneeled down to hug both her and Sam properly.

Now Fred could feel tears welling up in his own eyes; and from the looks of it, Win wasn’t doing much better. He hurried to help her make the tea; the last thing hew anted was Morse to think he had upset them after all.

* * *

 

Time went on. Morse seemed to grow accustomed to their ways remarkably quickly and always ready to help Win with the chores or play with Joan and Sam; his moving in had no discernible impact on his school work – apart from, if you asked Fred, he was growing cleverer by the day – so he was surprised when a confused Morse told him that his teacher wanted to speak to him.

The next day, he left work early and was soon sitting in Mr. Edwards’ class room, the shrewd eyes of the teacher studying him behind horn-rimmed glasses. “Now, Mr. Thursday – I won’t deny that I asked you to come here because I am a little confused as to Morse’s home life. As of a few months ago, I understood that he was living with his father and stepmother.”

“That’s right” he confirmed. “We adopted him three months ago.”

It only seemed like yesterday.

“But Morse’s father is still living?”

“Yes. Look, Mr. Edwards, we met Morse in the park, grew close to him. And his father lacked the patience or inclination to care for his son, so we all came to an agreement that adoption was our best option.”

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “I see. I am sorry if my questions inconvenience you, Mr. Thursday, but we do have a duty of care – and Morse is a most promising child.”

He smiled proudly. “He is, isn’t he?”

Edwards seemed surprised but when he spoke again, it was much more heartfelt. “I have noticed that, ever since his change of address was made, Morse has acted decidedly happier. He used to be rather subdued, but now he’s laughing and chattering with his classmates during recess.”

Pride swelled in his chest. They had managed to do something that Morse senior had considered below his dignity – make their boy happy.

“That will be all then, Mr. Thursday.”

As they shook hands, he said, “If you don’t mind me asking a question of my own –“

“Of course not.”

“You didn’t need long to be convinced that this was a good thing. Why?”

Edwards smiled. “Mr. Thursday, if there is one thing I have seen often enough to recognize it at once, it’s the expression of a proud father. And just now, when I spoke of Morse’s intellectual abilities, I saw it in your face.”

* * *

 

It was a week or two after he had come home from his talk with Edwards and assured Morse that everything was fine when he appeared thoughtful during the nightly cup of tea before bed.

“Something on your mind, son?” he asked.

He looked up. “I was wondering – that is, I would be very happy – but you don’t –“ he broke off.

Win gently laid a hand on his arm. “Take your time, dear.”

He took a deep breath. “Would you – would you mind terribly if I called you Dad and Mother?”

Fred understood immediately, of course – his dad could easily be replaced; he didn’t matter; but he’d called someone else Mum.

“Oh Morse” Win sniffed, drawing him into her arms. “Of course not. We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we Fred?”

“Yes, we would” he said through the lump that had appeared in his throat, “That we would, Morse.”

He beamed at them, as happy as could be.

It was a good evening.  


End file.
